Just You
by Cosmic Sky
Summary: Once upon a time, they believed their futures were set in stone, then came their time at the academy followed by a war neither of them could have expected. Rather than set in stone, the future was whatever Sylvain and Ingrid chose to make of it. Both had ideas of what they wanted, but only in the aftermath did they realize those things could be achieved together instead of apart.


**Hey, everyone. It's been a while, but I decided to pick up on my last Sylvain/Ingrid story where it left off at. I had plans to do a sequel, but I got a little sidetracked. Better late than never, and as part of my new year's writing resolution, here it is. Naturally, it's post-Azure Moon Route.**

**I do not own anything.**

* * *

"Are you going to stand there watching or do you actually plan on doing something? If you're waiting for me to push you, then you can forget it."

In spite of the nervousness petrifying his arms and legs, Sylvain was able to look to his best friend and grin. "Push me, Felix, you just did. You gave me the words of confidence I need to go forward and confess!" Proudly proclaimed the heir to House Gautier.

The blue-haired swordsman wasn't impressed, which wasn't anything new. In some ways, his nonchalant look was reassuring, comforting really. Odd as it may have sounded, it brought an even greater sense of warmth to the festivities going on around them. Perhaps Sylvain could just see that through the half-hearted scowl, Felix was smiling and trying to encourage him in his own way. He'd certainly known the blue-haired swordsman long enough to pick up on his little personality quirks and hidden messages that he appeared so fond of sending, even if he denied sending them. It showed that in spite of all that had come to past, he hadn't changed, at least not in some ways.

Sylvain was very aware of the fact that the world was quite a different than it had been close to ten years ago, when preparations were set for the Millennium Festival. Instead of a festival, everyone had found themselves preparing for an all-out battle with an approaching Imperial Army headed by one of their own classmates. While a handful had been willing o say it, most preferred not to for fear it would make the worst come to pass. That they would all die and everything they loved and carried about would be trampled under the steel boots of the Adrestian Empire.

Ingrid hadn't been that cynical, even though she'd gone out to scout out the enemy and returned with grim news. They were outnumbered near five to one and most certainly outmanned, and yet she looked to him with hope in her eyes as she spoke to him in her ever calm and assertive voice.

"_Whatever happens, be care, don't flirt, don't joke around, just fight and keep yourself and everyone else alive. Sylvain…we're going to make it through this, all of us." _

"_Hey, remember who you're talking to! I may not act like it, but I can hold my own! In fact, Dimitri himself said I made for a good sparring partner, even when he'd go all out!" _There'd been some brief laughter over the statement, over the remembrance of happier times before the cold hand of the present slapped them awake. A short silence followed, only ending when Sylvain reached over and held the future knight's hand. It was an act that caught her by surprise, and brought a light blush to her face as he held her right hand up. _"Your advice applies to you too, Ingrid. Out there…be careful, be extremely careful, alright? You…you've got a place in the kingdom, as leader of House Galatea."_ Sylvain would have liked to have added serving their old friend, but given Dimitri's mental state at the time, well, he knew they already had enough to worry about.

She was thinking the same thing, muttering a silent prayer to the goddess to look after all of them, especially their House leader. _"Alright then, sounds like a promise, don't you think? See you when this is over with." _

"_Of course!" _There was more he wanted to say, some little joke or quip about how he'd tell her all about his great victories or battle scars he'd gained. Nothing came out of his mouth as he was too mesmerized by her eyes, their emerald radiance enhanced by the glow of the slowly setting sun just outside the window. Like him, those eyes would harden in concentration and the once pristine face would become smeared with blood, their own and those of their enemies. All of that should have been enough incentive for Sylvain to say more.

Then the battle began and somehow, they all made it through, even though not all of them knew it at the time. The next five years had been anything of kind to the Blue Lions House…but they'd ultimately made it through it. They won the war and defeated the Empire and were now hard at work rebuilding the continent.

But not tonight, tonight everyone was gathering to enjoy the end of one peaceful year and beginning to another one that would hopefully be just as peaceful.

Sylvain had to wonder where his place in that year would be. Sure, he'd be hard at work preparing to succeed his father…but life was about more than just titles and lines of noble succession.

Near twenty feet from him, stood the Blue Lions' resident Pegasus Knight, now Falcon Knight and honored war hero, Ingrid Brandl Galatea…in the arms of another.

Ultimately, Sylvain knew he had no one but himself to blame as he'd jumped from one woman to another upon losing sight of his childhood friend and crush. It was a shallow thing to do, but for those that knew him, entirely what was to be expected. When the go and got tough, he resorted to flirting with every female he could find, even welcoming their rejections, physical injury included. It gave him something else to focus on instead of the pain eating up his heart. Now, that pain was back and its bite seemed stronger than ever; time had allowed it to grow stronger. Too strong for Sylvain's liking.

Beside him, Felix grunted, a vein on the verge of appearing on his forehead. "What, would you like to use magic to create an opening? If so, you're on your own explaining yourself to the Boar and the Professor."

"And Ingrid, and no, I'm not going to do that." Sylvain coolly shot back attempting to build up a front. It wasn't working as Felix's orange eyes only further narrowed. The Dark Knight was beginning to feel himself sweating under the swordsman's glare. "Look, I'm going, I'm going! I'm going!"

"Wait until after she finishes, you'll look like an ass if you just come in and steal her like that." Deadpanned the blue-haired man, his arms cross and his face having gone from a scowl to passive.

Sylvain didn't let such details go unnoticed, in fact, he honed in on them. He looked to the up-incoming heir to House Fraldarius; he looked…happy, at peace. Granted Sylvain had witnessed him in such a state since the festival began. Try as he might, Felix couldn't hide the fact that he was enjoying himself, just like the hundreds, no, the thousands at the Monastery, enjoying the night. Not even the "Lone Wolf" of the Faerghus Army had been able to keep up his usual sour disposition. Even more, Sylvain couldn't help but notice the easy way in which he stood, like he was enjoying the music playing. Stopping for a moment, he listened to the song being played; he recognized it, and remembered it as being one of Annette's favorites.

It was a good thing that Felix was too caught up in the music, he would have had something to say about Sylvain's heartfelt smile. _So, I guess that makes everyone but me. Gotta say, it's rather fitting. _Normally, sadness, anger, those are the things that a person would have experienced being in his position. Instead, Sylvain only felt an odd and even comforting sense of joy knowing his classmates, his friends, were on the way to finding life-partners. The goddess knew they all deserved it, especially those like Dimitri, who he was sure was dancing the night away with the daughter of Duke Edmund as he'd done close to seven years prior at the ball. Thinking back to that night, Sylvain mused what he wanted was partially a repeat…and a chance to move forward.

A hand rose and fell on the swordsman's back. "Go to her, I'll take care of it." When Felix finally met his eye, he could see it-the brotherly concern that hadn't wavered through the years. It could be considered a rarity that Felix was letting it show. "Don't worry, you've got someone of your own to look after, besides, you've looked after me enough. I'm ready to be on my own, thought don't forget to write. You and better make me one of the godfathers of your-"

"If I have to clean this up, I'll be taking a pound of flesh from you." Such a direct and malicious insult…a pity that it had no real malice behind it, and that Felix had made it near fifty-times and had probably copied it from Dimitri. Sylvain kept the laughter inward as he realized that his best friend had indeed copied it from their blond king, particularly when he was still in his revenge-crazed state. On some level, it further showed that Felix did indeed have a heart.

With a huff, he turned and left, his dark coat trailing behind him. No doubt Annette would ask him what was the cause of his sour disposition…or maybe not considering he'd had it on his face since arriving at the Monastery for the ball. Regardless, Sylvain knew he had to focus on himself and his future…and technically speaking, Ingrid's as well. It was his deepest wish but also a faint hope that by the end of this night, their futures would be intertwined.

He patiently waited for the song being played by the hired out band to end, his feet subconsciously moving towards her. Without a doubt, he looked as eager as he felt on the inside; there was no shame in it as Sylvain couldn't deny that a part of him had longed for this moment. He'd dreamed of it to be precise, yes, him, a well-known, and somewhat infamous flirt dreaming of dancing with a woman. A woman whom he knew extremely well and wanted by his side. Unfortunately, he was far from being the only one.

Sylvain's breath caught in his throat as he felt what was unmistakably a gust of wind pass him by. There was a single blink of the eyes before he registered what had happened, again, he wasn't the only one struggling to process the sudden change. Immediately, he scoured the crowd of Ingrid and found her…but not in the place he would have liked to.

As the song had ended and so too had the dance she'd been in, another had taken the opportunity to take her for himself, snatching her away from the arms of her previous dance partner. Sylvain's eyebrow twitched and his fingers flexed.

There was a near burning temptation for him to call forth either of his two polearms, his family's Hero's Relic or his personal scythe. Using both sounded like a pretty good idea.

Suddenly, his formerly empty hand was occupied by a gloved hand. Seconds later and Sylvain felt another pair of arms grabbing at his shoulders. He silently cursed, even as he put on a happy smile and turned to greet a trio of ladies, a fourth in the process of making her way over. All dressed as lavishly as the occasion required, all no doubt nobility, and no doubt having been watching him just as he'd been watching Ingrid. As the song had ended, they spied an opportunity like him and jumped on it. Again, just like him. Sylvain couldn't exactly say he hated these girls, he liked to think he'd grown at least that much. Besides, something told him that they'd sought him out not just because of his Crest, but because of his deeds during the war. He had after all, made quite a name for himself like the rest of his former classmates.

Oh, how childhood dreams could turn sour upon reaching adulthood. Still, that was no reason to give up and mourn. "Well, since you ladies seem to insist, who am I to turn you all down." He spoke in his well-practiced charming voice. It worked like a charm as the eyes of the three lit up like stars. Then they began to glare at one another debating who got to dance with the Gautier heir first. _Ingrid, just wait for a me for a little while. Please. _He prayed before reaching out to take the hand of the brunette closest to him. Upon feeling his warm palm, her cheeks lit up, they exploded as he stared into her soul with his smiling face.

With his face turned away, Sylvain couldn't see the concerned, but resigned expression on the lance-wielding blonde. Her heart trembled as she watched her childhood friend engage in might as well have been a three-way dance with three other noblewomen, all of whom looked to Sylvain with adoration in their eyes. She couldn't exactly say she blamed them, but she'd never let Sylvain hear that. At least maybe not until…

"Ingrid?"

"Hm, o-oh, it's nothing." She quickly recovered. It was something she'd grown rather good at over the last several weeks. For the foreseeable future, it was looking like she would be getting better at it.

What small amount of happiness she could grasp would depend on it.

* * *

When Ingrid finally found the chance to taste fresh, frost-tinted air, a smile immediately blossomed across her face. Her hands stretched out to take hold of the small snowflakes falling from the darkened night sky. Almost three days prior, when some began predicting snowfall, there was worry that the weather would keep the coming guests from attending the Millennium Festival. What had instead happened was that several parties had picked up the place. If there was a place to be snowed in at, why not the seventy-percent rebuilt Garreg Mach Monastery.

Then there were the visitors from Faerghus such as Ingrid and the rest of her Blue Lions classmates. To them, moving through the snow wasn't anything out of the ordinary, it was practically normal. So too was taking one's time and watching it fall. For Ingrid, it was a way to put her mind at ease.

Sitting there on a lone stone bench, she watched the hundreds of thousands of white pockets of moisture cascade from the skies. The snow had started late in the mid-day and continued onward now covering the Monastery in a thin but growing layer of white. Many noted that simply made this year's Millennium Festival all the more splendid. The blonde knight agreed with the sentiment.

Sweet silence surrounded her like a cocoon. Distant were the continued sounds of the on going party, still going strong even after two hours. Ingrid could only imagine how many were drunk and how many were on their way to becoming so. A handful had been the latter and attempted to take her hand for a dance, and nearly almost as many had outright been drunk and tried to do the same. Even she had to admit, some of them had been amusing, especially those who fell face-first and had to be collected by their friends or retainers. Thankfully, none she personally knew of had been amongst that list, least of all her orange-haired oldest and most trusted friend and companion.

"I wonder who you're dancing with now…Sylvain." Somehow, her own voice surprised her, perhaps because she was speaking from her heart instead of her brain. It was perhaps the first time all evening she'd done such a thing. She was sure that if Dimitri or Byleth could get a hold of her, that'd have something to say…and likely given her the chance to speak from her heart as they considered themselves her friends first and foremost. Ingrid thought the same, but she didn't have the heart to pull either of them away from their own activities, or rather, their dates. Especially Dimitri.

A smile blossomed on her face as she thought of her former prince, now her king, waltzing with the daughter of Duke Edmund of the Alliance. It was a blessing from the goddess considering all he had been through. Likewise, she was grateful for the blooming relationships of her other classmates, all of whom seemed to have found happiness in companionship.

Except her.

Which was odd considering that romance was the last thing on her list of priorities, or it was supposed to be anyway.

But as she grew older, life had intervened, it had changed her. Ironically, one could argue she achieved her dream of becoming a knight. Five years of war and two years of putting down skirmishes, some quite violent and on the verge of becoming outright rebellions. She'd fought and lived through it all…

But what now?

It wasn't like knighthood ended when wars did, in fact, their duty became all the more apparent during the peace time. Besides, it's not like all the fighting had stopped. What they were enjoying now was a moment of peace that could end in an abrupt flash.

However, if that were the case, shouldn't she have been enjoying herself? While she was still a knight, Ingrid was also still a human being, a person, who wanted joy out of life. Specifically joy that didn't come from swinging a lance or a sword or riding atop a stallion.

Ingrid knew she wanted the kind of joy that came with interacting with people. Or rather, a specific person.

"Ingrid?"

Escaping from her lips was a cloud of icy air as she jumped up to her feet and spun around to find the peach-colored eyes of her fellow knightly warrior. And the source of the other half of her anxiety, as well as her hope.

"As you can see, I've already got my coat with me, so the old 'you forgot your coat' schtick isn't going to work." It was an automatic response, one that she began to regret until she saw Sylvain burst into laughter. Ingrid was laughing alongside him before she even knew it.

"For the record, even with that nice little coat on your shoulders, you can get cold. You never know when a stray wind from the north could sweep over the Monastery." Offered the flirt causing her laughter to deepen. At the sound of it, Sylvain felt all the wound-up tension in his body begin to unwind. His face softened as he stepped closer towards his old friend. "You needed to step out for a minute?"

"And of you? I'd assume you have a long line of ladies clamoring for your attention, and you being rather frugal with giving it out." Coyly shot back the blonde.

"Can't exactly argue with you there…but you've got just a long list of suitors clamoring for your attention too." Returned the Dark Knight causing a brief flash of surprise to occupy the Falcon Knight's face. _So, you did think I was off in my own little world again. Not that I can blame you. _The last thought came with a sorrowful tone, but he instead used it as fuel, to give him strength to carry through on his next actions. "Would you mind if I joined you?"

"This time." There was little hiding the humor that masked the statement…or the relief. The latter flowed outward and consumed her as he took his seat beside her, a few inches or so separated their heavily clothed forms. "Did you ever think we'd make it this far?"

"If you asked me after the Battle of Garreg Mach, I'd say hell no." That was the side of him that usually came as a surprise, the blunt, cynical, and at times even mean-spirited soul that had been scarred by years of familial abuse, emotional turmoil, and lastly war. It was a dark side of him that few were privy to, but amongst the original Blue Lions, such a trait had been quietly observed. And in some ways, treated. "That said…I'm happy we all made it through, and I mean all of us. To see the snow at the Monastery again," he laughed holding out his hand catching several snowflakes. "It reminds me of back home!"

"Yes…it has been a while…I still remember the snowball fight we had with the other houses." Wistfully mused the blonde causing the orange-haired man to snap his head to her. Quickly, a cheesy smile spread along his face. "Hey, don't give me that look. What I specifically remember is having to carry you to the infirmary after a literal battalion of girls decided to take aim at you."

The magic-using knight laughed off the memory, partially because in spite of the bone-chilling agony he experienced that day, he really did have fun. Scratch that, it was one of the fondest memories he had of their time at the Monastery. "Thanks again for that…even though I'm pretty sure you were one of the girls who pummeled me."

"…Can you deny that you had it coming?" Such a sly, foxlike grin on the normal composed female knight's face, Sylvain simply couldn't resist the laugh. Ingrid, for her part, let him get it out of his system. Without thinking, she shut her eyes and leaned over. The minute her head touched his shoulder, his laughter began to patter out, dying in his throat. "You know…I'd like it if we could have another one."

"Are you, Ingrid Brandl Galatea, suggesting the Blue Lions, all of us whom are in our thirties…get together to pummel each other in the face with snowballs?" He pressed. His reward was a smile, the most dazzling, radiant smile he'd ever seen. Sheer impulse urged him to wrap his arm around her waist and bring her into a kiss. One whose passion would be enough to warm the both of them more than their fur coats ever could.

"What can I say? I suppose you, Mercedes, and Annette finally succeeded in getting me to loosen up a bit." Shrugged the green-eyed woman.

Sylvain let out another laugh, his restraint cracking enough that he leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. It was a chaste kiss, one that didn't mean anything…or it wasn't supposed to mean anything. Mercedes from time to time handed them out to all of them, though with Dedue things were…more emotional. Sylvain himself often gave them out, though in the recent years, namely during the last few months of the war he'd gotten somewhat more picky about them. Naturally, Ingrid was the exception; she'd always been the exception.

When he went in for them…Ingrid couldn't ever bring herself to resist them, in fact, a small part of her…yearned for them. Not that she'd ever let Sylvain know that, not unless their relationship changed.

The thought both excited and terrified her, which had left her in this current predicament.

"Hey, maybe one day when we go to visit Dimitri, he'll have some time to himself and we'll be able to get lucky." Came Sylvain's jubilant, optimistic voice. It was so much more joyful to hear than his dark and somewhat broken tone that came out when he was letting his inner darkness out. There could be no darkness without light. "You're…going to become his personal knight, aren't you? I-I mean that's what I've been hearing. The pay is good enough that maybe you can support your father and your domain so-"

"Do you want me to do that?"

It was a loaded question, one that both Sylvain and Ingrid were very aware of. Their eyes locked with one another, tension enveloping them as the snow overhead continued to fall. The next words spoken had to be spoken carefully, which proved rather difficult for both of them. No longer were they touching one another, a barely an inch of space separated the two of them as they stared into one another's eyes. One was trying to read the other while attempting to formulate a response. That possible response invoked terror in the other for all it could lead to.

To say that he had anything to fear from her being close to Dimitri was beyond foolish. Their king, their friend, had already found love, and Sylvain was quite happy he'd found it in a person who was learning that she too deserved to be loved and cared for like anyone else. Personally, Sylvain could think of no one better suited to guard the king and queen of Faerghus. Of course, that led to the problem-what right did he have to take such protection away from them? While at heart he tried to be as altruistic as possible, deep down, Sylvain knew he and his deceased brother shared more traits than he would like to admit. Namely envy and selfishness. He personally knew how those traits could ruin a man, he'd seen it happen…and had nearly fallen prey to them himself.

"Would you prefer if I became your knight?"

Sylvain blinked. "W-W-What?!"

In spite of the tense mood, Ingrid laughed. There was the Sylvain she knew, and there was the person she always felt a near burning drive to protect no matter what. "Are you saying that you forgot what you told me after you all came to my rescue along with Dorothea? About how if I wanted to, I could become a knight of House Gautier?"

He hadn't exactly been lying when he said that, though that was the impression he tried to give. "W-W-Well, i-it's not like it'd be a-a-anything out of the ordinary. I-I mean plenty of big and famous knights have gone onto serve noble houses, e-e-even Crest bearers!" There he went again, his emotions flying out of control like a flock of birds let loose into the wild. Only his old and most trusted female friend could exact such a reaction out of him. It wasn't all that bad considering it always seemed to amuse Ingrid more than anything.

"Hey…do you…well, provided you're not keeping a long line of ladies waiting, up for a ride?"

Sylvain blinked. "On Abel?"

"This is a night for celebration, so are-"

In a heartbeat he was on his feet, his hand in hers, and leading her through the snow towards the stables. It didn't surprise him in the least that Ingrid had brought her personal Pegasus to the festival. Truthfully, he didn't mind seeing the seasoned winged stallion, and he was hoping that Abel would be happy to see him as well. There was a squeeze of his hand, as if Ingrid herself heard his question and answered it.

Once more, the blonde knight and the orange-haired noble left their footprints in the snow, just as they did when they were children almost twenty years ago. Much had changed, yet at the same time so little.

Amongst the former, Ingrid finally had the chance to ride a Pegasus, and true to his word, Sylvain held tight onto her waist as she took them up into the snowy skies.

* * *

"…That's it?"

The servants around the table quietly looked between one another, it seemed they too were in a little bit of shock in seeing what was happening. It wasn't like the Gautier Family was a particular violent or unhinged noble family, minus the black sheep that had been Miklan. Granted, they were as some would have said, "the gold standard" in terms of nobility. Respected throughout the Holy Kingdom, a proud and noble reputation had been built up and maintained through the generations. Regarding the last part, maintaining that reputation hadn't always been easy, or pleasant. No one could attest to that fact more so than the future Margrave, who sat directly across from his predecessor, his father. He was in shock at the words that had just been spoken.

Stéphane Marcos Gautier was not a man who yielded to circumstance, nor was he a man who liked repeating himself. Still, he wasn't nearly as frigid as his reputation would have implied, at least not unless he was pushed. As his son, Sylvain knew what he looked like in anger and in irritation, that wasn't how he looked now as he stared at him with deep cobalt-colored eyes. "I can think of nothing else, that is unless your mother has something to add." And like that, the Margrave passed the buck onto his wife, who finished wiping her lips with the nearby napkin.

It went without saying that the future successor's appearance came from his mother. Her orange-colored hair so similar to his own, her eyes a soft peach like his own, and his neat and tidy mannerisms all derived from her. As did some of his sharpness. "Sylvain, your father and I have talked and we have to decide to give you some…room, after all, you have more than earned it."

Sylvain continued to stare at his parents, an odd feeling squirming about in his gut.

His father took the hint, sighing. "We _are_ expecting you to marry, preferable before you turn thirty-five."

"In that cause I've got time." He coyly joked.

"Yes, and we trust you'll use those years to find a suitable woman to carry on the Gautier Family name and pass down the family Crest." Added his mother catching his attention. There was something relaxing in her posture, even as her son's gaze turned hard. "Your flirting aside, we have faith that you will do what is right by your family…and that you will find someone to settle down with for your own sake. We only ask that person be someone of respectable worth which is why we agreed to this training program. Amongst the list of trainees coming will be a number of women we believe would make a suitable wife for you. That said, we are _not _going to be picking one out…that falls to you as we will not trap you in a marriage you'd sooner kill yourself to in order to avoid it."

_But you're still giving me a list of girls to pick from. Odds are they either have Crests or come from families that do have a Crest and you're hoping one of them will manifest in your grandkids, even if it's not the…_He stopped himself, both physically and mentally. Sylvain knew where his parents were going…but he could at least see they were someone trying. As his mother said, they were giving him a choice in who his future spouse would be, which was more than what could be said for others.

"_Baby steps." _

A smile found its way onto his face hearing the voice of his academy teacher. If he were here, at Sylvain's side he knew exactly what he would say-make the most of the situation then go from there. That had given him hope, and that hope still burned bright and strong.

"Alright then, I'll do it! I'll oversee the training and maybe do some looking around, but I'll be doing it _my _way, mother, father." Proudly proclaimed the magic-using knight laying both hands flat on the table and looking to them with a smile.

A look was exchanged between the parents, as if they were second-guessing exactly what it was they just did.

"…Very well, we won't always be around to hover over you, nor would doing so shape you into a suitable Margrave…or a man." Said his mother, a brief hint of sorry flashing across her eyes. Sylvain knew what it was centered on, and winced as well. "That said, you do know the standards that we live by and we trust you'll follow them."

"Of course!"

For a brief instant, it seemed that a smile was on its way to forming along Margrave Gautier's face. No doubt it'd be the talk amongst the servant staff, and the nearby town as well. He supposed there was no shame in it, after all, even the coldest of glaciers could thaw. Not to mention Stéphane knew he'd already lost one son, loath as he was to every admit it. His favorite son still remained, his most capable son, his heir…and perhaps the one whom the one-eyed King of Faerghus needed for this new and still changing Fódlan.

_The Adrestian Empire came roaring at us all heralding such violent and extreme change it was nothing short of madness. They're beaten back and our king decides to follow the same route, or perhaps a similar one less extreme. My son…you'll be a part of that route I take it. Will it take you where you've always dreamed of going? Will it preserve the honor and dignity of the Gautier name?_

They were such burning questions that the Margrave would have consulted an oracle if one could be found…but he knew that the only true answer that could be found was to wait and see. To wait…and hope his son's generation could surpass those who had come before them.

All he could do was hope that his son didn't have to persuade over the funeral of one of his own offspring as he had. He hoped that Sylvain wouldn't be plagued with the silent doubts and questions and worry that plagued him and his wife and would continue to until the day they died.

* * *

Sylvain had actually been looking forward to meeting the oncoming knight regiment. All in all, training under the banner of House Gautier wasn't anything out of the ordinary, especially in times of peace. They were one of the few noble houses always on active duty as they boarded a hostile enemy faction, who made periodic incursions, or attempted to. Personally, Sylvain wondered if such a thing could ever end as he always saw the skirmishes between his people and those of Sreng as more than a little pointless, though such thoughts had remained with himself and those he felt he could trust.

And it just so happened that one of those people were amongst the number of knights that had been sent up north to his family's domain.

"I-I-I-I-I-Ingrid?!"

The blonde cocked an eyebrow as she dismounted from her Abel, strapped to her back was Lúin, her Family's Hero's Relic. Of course she had it with her, it was by all rights hers as she had formally succeeded her father as head of House Galatea; not to mention she was the only one who could use the lance effectively, just as he was the only one who could use the Lance of Ruin. "You sound surprised to see me? What, didn't you get the letter that was sent? Don't tell me you were too busy with some-"

"Lady Ingrid!"

Sylvain loved his family's servants, they'd practically helped raise him just as much as his parents had. Specifically, they'd helped cover for him when his…womanly troubles hit close to home.

In retrospect, he probably should have known that Ingrid would be coming, no doubt to help supervise the training. In retrospect…he probably should have actually read the list of names of the knights who'd be training under him and his family for the next week. If he had then Ingrid's appearance wouldn't have been such a big surprise.

Regardless, he was going to make due…and hopefully get an answer to the questions that had been asked that night at Garreg Mach little over a month ago. There had been no answers, just a sudden end marked by a flight on a Pegasus filled with joy and laughter.

Sylvain muttered a silent prayer to the goddess that this evening would have just a little bit of that. Unknown to him, that prayer wasn't just wished upon by him, but by the blonde knight who'd quickly launched into directing her traveling companions, her green eyes occasionally glancing back the future Margrave.

Without further ado, the training began, and it began in earnest. Apparently, Ingrid had been paying close attention to the Ashen Demon during his time as the Blue Lions' personal instructor, as had Sylvain for he followed closely after her. Stern when needed, yet at the same time offering gentle words and encouragement. They weren't always timed perfectly, but the fifty or so knights that had been sent to Gautier territory knew where they were being pushed, and many responded by hurrying along to that destination under the advice of the two war veterans.

Then there was the attention paid to their persons, specifically by members of the opposite sex. Of course, the ladies were quite interested in watching Sylvain, especially when he gave a demonstrative spar against his blonde friend. Likewise, some of the men were quite amazed to find the bearer of the Crest of Daphnel at times not only holding her ground, but advancing as well. When the time came for volunteers, it ended the exact same-with them lying on the ground and Ingrid pointing out where they had gone wrong before offering the downed fighter a helping hand upward.

Rather enthusiastically, quite a number of ladies offered themselves to be sparring partners for the future margrave. Sylvain smiled at them, but the smile was hollow, and always did his eyes drift to the side, where Ingrid lay watching him. Her gaze burrowed into him like the tips of arrows, sometimes throwing off his rhythm creating an open more than a few of his sparring partners took advantage of.

Of course, things were reverse when Ingrid found herself fighting more than a few male volunteers, all just as interested in her as the females had been in Sylvain. Actually, some women shot rather suggestive looks Ingrid's way as she flashed her training spear, disarming her opponents and at times struggling to keep herself from being disarmed.

Sylvain witnessed them all from the sidelines, a growing heat in his stomach. He quietly cheered at every victory achieved by his friend, and seethed in anger when he caught the near amorous stares directed her way. Unknowing, she was impressing them, leaving such a mark on the knights green-faced and seasoned that no doubt her image would be engrained into their minds. While that was a good thing in the grand scheme of things, it wasn't such as far as Sylvain was concerned.

So he acted.

"Alright then, I think that's enough with the practice weapons. Everyone here has shown they're capable and ready so why don't we take things to the next level?" His declaration caught several off-guard, including Ingrid. He stepped forward, holding out his hand and concentrating. In a flurry of magical sparks appeared not his family's divine-blessed weapon, but the polearm that well and truly belonged to Sylvain, a "war prize" some could call it.

The Crescent Scythe, though a pale imitation of the dreaded Scythe of Sariel wielded by the infamous Death Knight, it was still a mighty weapon. Sylvain had procured it from one of the masked horseman's lieutenants at the Battle of Garreg Mach Monastery. Naturally, he'd gone on to use it, gaining such mastery with the weapon that some came to believe _he _was somehow linked to the Death Knight. While a part of him had relished in those rumors, he'd wielded his blood-borne scythe in the service of his comrades and his nation.

And now he would use it to help steel the realm's future protectors.

"Sylvain?" Ingrid had seen how skilled her old friend had become with the morbid weapon. It was quite…unsettling to be honest, several, even Professor Byleth, had voiced some shock and even a little fear at his masterful usage of the weapon. Then there was his dark armor and his ability to wield magic making him a supremely powerful threat to any who stood in his way.

"Well? What's wrong, you all were looking so boastful, but you're getting cold feet now that we've broken out the real weapons? That's no way for future knights of Faerghus to act!" He boomed in a suddenly commanding voice that had the dozen or so warriors standing up straight, fear draining from their faces as they faced forward. "That's good, those are the kinds of faces I wanted to see. Now then, let's get back to sparring." The spiked tip of his scythe was raised and pointed forward; a target having been signaled out.

The guards stationed around the training field passed silent looks to one another. It appeared that House Gautier's on-staff healers would be getting something of a work out this evening. And perhaps over the next several days if this proved to be a trend.

* * *

Regardless of rather it was entering spring or summer, the northern most lands of House Gautier were quite cold, and they only got colder at night. For good reason, many shut their doors and began stoking the fire place when the sun, even if it weren't visible, dipped below the horizon and night fell over the land. While professional soldiers and the like were trained to operate in the harsh coldness, there were limits.

For others, there weren't any. Having grown up in the harsh cold, it wasn't much of an issue for Sylvain, who remained in the practice field, a lance or sword in hand as he swung at imaginary opponents.

He wasn't alone. "You know, I'm pretty sure you scared half the platoon you were supposed to be training."

Laughing, he turned to face the green-eyed blonde that emerged from behind the pillars. "Hey, life's unpredictable, you never know what it could throw at you. We gotta teach them to be prepared."

"Spoken like the leader we all hoped you'd grow into." Came the visibly proud voice of the Falcon Knight. Her boots crunched against the snow as she walked over to him, stopping once he was within arm's length. "I was…well, I was kind of proud of watching you, even if you did scare half of them to death."

"Like you're one to talk." Chuckled the orange-haired Dark Knight sheathing his blade. "Granted, I like to think when it comes to charm, I've got a leg or two up on you."

"Remind me, who was selected to enter the White Heron Cup? And who won it?" Ingrid pressed crossing her arms, a look of mock defiance on her face.

Smirking, the male knight took a single step forward. "You."

"And who was it that's always had your back?"

"You." He laughed again.

Realizing how close they were, Ingrid felt heat flushing her cheeks. The bitter cold surrounding them fell away. Though her legs remained strong enough to keep her standing, she felt like her head was about to spin right off her shoulder. The spinning grew worse as Sylvain reached out and grasped her right hand, their gloved fingers lacing together.

"I heard that you still haven't taken your post as Dimitri's chief knight, head of the royal guard." Began the horseman. "What's stopping you?"

The blonde knight suddenly felt like there was sand in her mouth. "In…indecision."

"Ingrid," Sylvain said, his voice having lost all traces of humor as he stared into her eyes. This was a complete reversal of their usual positions, him being the serious one and her near shirking from his gaze. "We both know that if there's anyone who's suited to be the head knight, the one leading the kingdom's forces, it should be you. In every battle we were in during the war, you were always racing forth, always acting as our spearhead."

"…But you were always with me, Sylvain." Getting the words out felt much like trying to push a boulder up hill. Of course, once the task was completed, no matter how strenuous it was, everything else seemingly fell into place. "Every major battle, every struggle, every victory…you were there. You've always been there, your safety has always a though either in the front or back of my mind."

They were practically on top of one another, their breathing intermingling as the stare down continued. "You said that I need you to look after me…that I'm near useless when you're not around…hehe, you're right." Quickly, he encircled his arms around her waist, catching the normally alert woman off-guard. Even as a moment passed and their positions sunk in, Ingrid didn't push him away like she normally would have. "I'm always at my best when you're beside me, and when I'm falling down into my worst…you're one of the few people who can help pick me back up. You did so after that mess with Miklan and kept on doing so, even after we all met back up at the Monastery like we promised we would."

A shiver ran through the Pegasus-rider's body, one of both fear and joy. "I was…Sylvain…I was terrified it would just be me and perhaps one or two others. I was…I was frightened you wouldn't be among them. That you'd either be dead or…"

"Never." He near growled, squeezing her against him. "No matter how I feel about the Crests…about the system, about all of it…I…killing you, Felix, Dimitri, the Professor, or any of the others…no 'freedom' could be worth that…I'd have no one to share it with. I'd be all by myself…I'd have trampled over everything I'd come to gain in spite of the burden of my Crest." His head fell into the golden field that was her head. Rather it was long and braided or short as it was now, Sylvain loved his old friend's hair. "Besides, Professor Byleth gave me a pretty good alternative-work to change the system, even if it takes me my whole life."

"Sounds like a big endeavor." Mused the green-eyed warrior. She too had heard their teacher speak of such things, and their prince, whose ideals mirrored his. Perhaps it was what helped bind them all together, the belief that things could change gradually over the drastic and near extreme revolution that Edelgard had promised. A ping of regret and shame went off within the Falcon Knight. "I…during the five years when we were all scattered…some Imperial Scouts tried to recruit me, turn me over to the Empire's side."

"…I know."

"I-wait, what? S-S-Sylvain?! You knew about that!?" Stammered the blonde, nearly straining herself to break out of his embrace.

"Listen to me, Ingrid." He began, silencing her with a penetrative stare that utterly captivated the lance-wielding woman. "Some of the Pegasus Knights you flew with…when I talked to them…some of them told me about the offer. They told me about how you refused it and I…I was happy, I was proud because I knew the Ingrid that I knew, the Ingrid that I called my friend was still there. That you'd never betray any of us, your kingdom, your countrymen, your family…I…it made me feel better about sticking it out with the Blue Lions. I figured if you could be that strong then maybe I could too."

Before she knew it, Ingrid's hand was reaching up, caressing the snow-covered cheek of the magic-totting nobleman. A smile grew along her face, as did one along his. "Sylvain…you've always been strong, even if you didn't act like it. As annoying as you could be…you were always there for us, always a shoulder to lean on or talk to when we needed it. You certainly made sure to be there for Dimitri when he regained his sanity in spite of voicing your own doubts about him and all he'd done. Those weren't things a coward could do; those were the actions of a friend…of a leader I might say. A leader that I would be proud to devote my-"

He'd waited years, he'd feared what would come about if he acted on the blooming feelings within him. Throwing all the fears and caution to the side, Sylvain pressed his lips against Ingrid. In spite of himself, he maintained a small modicum of self-control as he was very aware this all could still end on a sour note. It could still end with his heart broken and maybe even his closest friendship damaged beyond repair.

Further sweeping aside his fears was Ingrid herself, her hands holding facing to his head as she returned the kiss. A harsh wind blew across the training field, penetrating even their fur-lined clothing. To the two of them it was a minor inconvenience, even after they separated for air, cheeks and lips read as cherries. Again, their frantic breaths came out as visible clouds that brushed up against each other.

"Would you be a knight of House Gautier? Would you be _my _knight and my wife? I swear on my family name, on my family's Crest, I will do everything in my power to support the people of House Galatea. I-"

"I will!" The joy she was feeling, the rush of excitement and awe, Ingrid hadn't felt it as far back as her childhood. Of course it resulted in a fiery blush on her face, but it was one that she wore with pride; she would more than likely continue to wear it in the future. "This…well, if we do this…you know what I'm going to ask for you, well, actually two things."

"I promise, I won't look at any other woman other than you! Hell, you're the only woman who I've ever had serious feelings for! I know coming from me that may sound-"

"Sylvain!" Immediately, he ground to a halt, the sudden silence was enough to bring a smile to Ingrid's face as she placed a single gloved finger against his lips. "I…believe you, I believe you with all my heart. That's my first condition, my second…is that you have to promise not to scare every guy who looks at me with a hint of interest in his eyes, even the knights and visiting dignitaries. That's no way for a Margrave to behave."

For a minute, there was shock, then the familiar mischievous fire blazed in his warm eyes. Sylvain tightened his hold on the knight. "What? I'm supposed to do nothing when some punks make goo-goo eyes at _my_ girl?"

Already, the fire burning her cheeks was growing a bit too much to bear; it was arguably more potent than Ingrid had first thought. "You'll make due, after all, you won't have anything to fear. After all…I'll have to make do whenever some noblewoman or what have you makes a pass at you, and for some reason or another you play at returning it."

The kiss that came next was a surprise, albeit a rather pleasant one. Finally, the strength in Ingrid's leg began to decline as Sylvain lavished her with tender affection; she returned it in her own small way, her own feelings finally being allowed to run loose.

The future Margrave pulled back from his blonde lover, a fierce look in his eyes. "Only you, Ingrid, from this day onward…you'll be my one and only. I swear it."

She could look in his eyes and see how true his words were, how heartfelt the love he felt for her truly was. In the past, she'd caught glimpses of that love and it had frightened her, as had the growing feelings she had for him. They'd been at war and had so many bigger obstacles to overcome without letting their personal feelings get involved. Now that that war was past, those personal feelings could be brought to the forefront, and acted upon. Ingrid was ready to act on those feelings again when a stray cough caught her, and Sylvain's attention.

"Ahem, while that scene was nothing short of heartwarming and put my mind at ease…perhaps it is best left continued in your bed chambers, Sylvain, and after you and my future daughter-in-law have eaten?"

The two knights, both approaching thirty years of age and seasoned war veterans, froze like a pair of deer in the crosshairs of a hunter's bow. Jointly, they turned their heads to find the smiling, _smirking _face of Lady Jimena Amabel Gautier, two loyal attendants standing on either side of her. Naturally, they were looking away, furious blushes on their faces as they attempted to look anywhere but at the couple they'd no doubt be serving in the near future.

M-M-Mom-!"

"L-L-Lady Jimena, I-"

"Oh, worry not, I merely came upon you two towards the end, though I heard all that I needed to hear." Declared the matriarch of the Gautier Clan, a somewhat proud smile on her face as she beamed at her son causing him to blush. "Ingrid, of all the potential suitors for my son, I will say this right here at the beginning, you are the one I most approve of and I am fully willing to entrust the care of my son and my future grandchildren to you." Her words caused the blonde Pegasus-rider to blush hot pink. "We shall talk about this is in the morning, though for now…how's about you two come in, or would you prefer to remain out here alone in the cold with your passion to keep you warm while your stomachs no doubt howl for nourishment? Rest assured that I will ensure no one disturbs you two when you decide to retire for the -"

"Mom!" Cried the wielder of the Lance of Ruin, steam practically exploding from his ears and melting the snow pelting the side of his head.

A very familiar giggled fell from the woman's lips. "Come inside, at the very least you can treat your fiancé to a private dinner. A suitable first step in your relationship, don't you think?"

Ingrid laughed at her future in-law's jest while Sylvain merely grumbled, a hot blush still coloring his cheeks. All these years, and apparently some things hadn't changed. Even the servants seemed to be holding back a laugh or two; those who'd been with House Gautier since before its heir's birth could see the makings of a pattern.

Once Sylvain felt his hand grasped by Ingrid's, his groveling came to an end as he looked into the sparkling emerald orbs of the woman who'd stolen his heart. It was nothing short of ironic how she'd always been by his side, helping him along when he so desperately needed it. In turn, he'd helped her, pulling her out of the abyssal despair she'd fallen into following Glenn's death. Sylvain had no intentions on trying to replace the deceased Fraldarius, only forging a place for himself in her heart. Ingrid's being had already found one in his, and there it would remain until the day he died, just as he promised to remain at her side until his final days.

The same promise applied to Ingrid, who stole several glances at her brightly-haired lover. Never had she imagined that this would be where their paths led them, but she was immensely happy for it.

* * *

"Sorry that I don't have a ring or anything." That was the first thing he said to her after dinner and retiring to his bed chambers, or more accurately _their_ bed chamber. Ingrid was the first woman he'd ever brought inside, a testament to the true character of the bearer of the Crest of Gautier.

"Don't worry about it, just hearing your declaration, your promise…that was enough for me." Comforted the blonde sliding herself onto the mattress and against the Dark Knight's side. The sheets fell over the two of them, his arm wrapping around her shoulder and holding her close to his chest. Never in all her life had Ingrid felt so warm and comforted. "Sylvain…thank you."

"I'm the one who should be thanking you for giving me a chance." Came his reply before leaning over and giving her forehead a light kiss. "Now that you have…I'll make sure you never regret it, Ingrid."

She knew she never would, and she knew, one way or another, the dream of knighthood she held and the wish to succeed her father and provide for her land and people, both which at one point seemed so out of reach were possible. Because of her teacher, because of her friends, and certainly because of the man who held her in her arms.

* * *

**Originally, I had an urge to turn this story into a lemon or have things take a steamier, turn, but I'm fine with how things turned out. Maybe in a potential sequel when Sylvain has to go earn Count Galatea's approval, or the rest of the Blue Lions finding out about their relationship. Even with his post war reputation I like to think Sylvain's history of philandering would follow him and any woman he presents himself to and their family (provided they have a half-decent one) would make him prove himself worthy first. The perks of writing a lady killer in love I suppose. **


End file.
